


A Fresh Coat of Paint

by poppetawoppet



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-11
Updated: 2011-01-11
Packaged: 2018-04-19 16:14:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4752755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poppetawoppet/pseuds/poppetawoppet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>for the gameison_sh cycle two, challenge one, new</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Fresh Coat of Paint

"The walls are blue."

Sherlock turns and looks at Mrs. Hudson in confusion. The flat may look messy, but everything has its place in his mind, and the fresh coat of paint on the walls does not belong.

"Yes. I did it while you were in the hospital. Really cheers up the room. I don't care what the doctors sat about keeping things as normal as possible, keeping things the same."

"They said that?"

Sherlock puts a hand to his temple. He has been in a coma, almost two months they say.

"Yes, Sherlock. You took a big blow to the head. They were worried you might have lost some memory. Although it seems fine to me."

Sherlock nods absentmindedly as he wanders the room, making sure nothing else has been touched. It looks fine. Dusty, but fine. 

He sits in the chair. It's early in the day, so he knows John must be at the clinic. Sherlock is tempted to text him, just to see his reaction, but there is so much to catch up on.

So he opens his computer instead. "I'm fine Mrs. Hudson. Really."

"I'll come check on you in a few hours. Not that I'm your mother. I'm just the landlady."

Sherlock smiles as he listens to her bustle out. The sound is familiar enough that the blue walls don't bother him so much.

His blog is full of well wishes, but no real news. Sherlock scans pages of articles and finds nothing about the pool. Perhaps it was covered up. Perhaps because no one had died, the reporters had buried it. Sherlock set up a search to send him any information regarding the explosion. He is getting a headache, so he leaves the computer on and lies down.

*

_"Sherlock, when we get out of this, remind me of why I continue to live with you."_

_Sherlock has managed to move the bricks on top of him and John to the point where they are close again. John is bleeding pretty badly, and Sherlock can feel his own running down his face. He's scraped his wrists moving the bricks, and is almost certain they will scar if the ambulance does not arrive soon._

_"I believe you like the excitement. Either that or the unrequited attraction."_

_John laughs. "That must be it. Otherwise I'd think I was daft."_

_Sherlock smiles back at him and leans his head back. And waits._

*

It is dark.

"I brought you some tea."

Sherlock takes it, and looks out the window. "Where's John? Don't tell me he's taken extra shifts because I was gone."

Mrs. Hudson blinks at him. "I'm sorry, who?"

"John? John Watson? My roommate?"

"You don't have a roommate, Sherlock."

Sherlock stares at her concerned face before standing up. "John. Doctor. He was in the army. Had a limp. Psychosomatic. Dated that other doctor. Sarah."

Mrs. Hudson shakes her head, so Sherlock goes to John's room. The bed is covered in a perfunctory blanket, but not one jumper hangs in the wardrobe. Sherlock sweeps back into the main room, and looks for the cane he knows is in the far corner of the kitchen.

It isn't there.

"I—" Sherlock says.

"You have a very active mind Sherlock. Maybe while you were in a coma, you just had very vivid dreams."

"Do me a favor Mrs. Hudson. Please tell me, how exactly I entered this coma?"

"You were hit by a taxi. Very bad business. Apparently the man was off to kill someone else. Poison they say."

Sherlock nods and turns to his computer. _Search results: 0_

Sherlock sits in his chair. He looks at his hands. His head is throbbing again, but he has to know. Then he sees it, the faint white line across his wrist. 

He traces it with his finger.

What if it was a dream? 

"Do you want me to ring the doctor?"

Sherlock shakes his head. "I'll be fine."

Mrs. Hudson leaves the room with a sigh. Sherlock turns back to the computer and questions if he dares to look.

What if it _wasn't_ a dream?

Sherlock looks around, and begins to type. 

_Search: John Watson_


End file.
